Saving Grace
by Evil DM
Summary: Who was responsible for Soldier and the Jenova project? Where did the ideas come from? How were Sephiroth and Vincent created? On meeting the one responsible, and make a startling discovery: the process could be reversed. Rated for curses and graphic surg
1. Cold Meetings

A/N: Well, here I go again. I've been playing the game for ages, and working with the characters I like best (You'll figure out who they are quickly), so I finally decided to write a fic. Thanks, Onni-chan, for Vincent as we see him here. Oh yeah, I don't own anything but the twisted ideas and Diane. If you sue me, I'll see if I can pay in pocket lint.

**Saving Grace**

_Chapter 1_

_Cold Meeting_

She didn't belong in Junon. The little woman was educated, soft-spoken, and well kept, the opposite of most of the industrial city's residents. Even more, she didn't belong in the grubby bar in one of the worst areas of Junon, prodding the swill that passed for food.

It was rough and loud, chocobo races and other sports shown on grungy televisions, volume too loud, forcing patrons to shout. A few tables over, also on the back wall, where it should have been quieter, was a loud, motley group, arguing. Hearing the name of the insane general, Sephiroth, she glanced over.

Two men were leading the argument, one, small and skinny with yellow hair that resembled the chocobos on the television, the other a big, burly, tough black, a gun grafted on one arm. A well endowed woman with dark brown hair nodded in agreement with everything the blond—she guessed he was a leader of some sort—said. A grey striped cat bounced atop a mog, waving a megaphone, of all things, squeaking, ignored by the party. A girl, also dark-haired, was held in a headlock by a rough-looking blond, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, adding to the putrid air. She caught several creative explicatives, and something about materia, specifically, not the girl's. A red, lionlike creature lay on the floor, tail tucked close to himself, trying to ignore the squabble, single eye closed. The last was as far removed from the rest of the group as he could be, concealed in a draping red cloak. Feral-looking red eyes flickered from person to person, and she could almost feel the disgust, anger, and misery radiating from him. When he glanced at the cat-creature, she caught a glimpse of his face, and gasped in surprise.

Somehow, through the racket, he heard her, and their eyes met, cold red and intelligent grey. There was recognition in his, and his right hand twitched in what for him passed as a greeting. She nodded in return, both hiding their surprise.

Assured Yuffie would leave his materia alone now, Cid glanced over at Vincent. As usual, the man was quiet, but he was watching somebody. Since his instincts were never off, Cid followed the gunman's glance, and found he was watching a woman. She was odd, especially for here, so the pilot examined her closely.

She was small, probably not much over five feet, and downright scrawny. Her hair was long, the color of copper, and fairly well kept in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was naturally pale, but Cid knew that kind of paleness was only seen in people that lived in Midgar, where the sun never shone. She didn't carry any weapons that he could see, but he doubted she had any. The bookish type rarely carried anything sharp, even a pocketknife. He didn't see anything dangerous about her, and glanced at Vincent, surprised he was even bothering with watching her. As usual, he ignored the foul-mouthed pilot. Not taking the hint, he elbowed him. "Who's that?" he demanded.

"…someone I knew many years ago."

Red looked up, listening to what passed for a conversation. He stood, and padded over to the redhead. "Doctor."

"Red XIII. I'm glad to see you alive and well," she responded. Her voice was soft, speech educated, sincere. "How in the world did you get out of the labs?"

"I am too, Doctor. The people I travel with now set me free, thankfully. I'm helping them now, in their fight."

"And what would that be, Red?"

"Stopping Sephiroth."

"I see."

"Now, it is my turn for a question. What are you doing out of Midgar?"

She shook her head ruefully. "People with my level of knowledge of Shinra don't just resign. They die in their position, one way or the other. Needless to say, when I resigned, the President wasn't pleased. I suppose I should thank you and your friends for the relief I've gotten, with the Turks being after me. I've managed to hide so far, but it never lasts long."

"Why don't you help us, Doctor?"

"I won't be the cause of any more bloodshed. If I hadn't written those papers, you would be safe in Cosmo Canyon, and Sephiroth never born. I can only hope one day, I can redeem myself. As I wrote the theories that created Sephiroth and Vincent Valentine, perhaps I can undo them."

"You knew Vincent." He didn't make it a question.

"Knew _of_ him," she corrected. "When he was head of the Turks, we met, once. It wasn't a cordial meeting," she confessed.

"But you could help him."

She looked at Vincent, seeing the glimmer of hope her words brought to his tired eyes. "I think so."

Vincent rose, leaving a confused Cid, who tried to dig answers out of Red, who returned to his previous place on the floor. He sat across from her, staring intensely.

"It could kill you," she said softly, staring at her folded hands.

"I don't care."

"I might not be able to repair all the damage that was done."

"Will _they_ be gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm a scientist, not a seer. Everything I have is on paper."

"It's more than I have." His voice was soft, hope hidden behind careful barriers, lest he be hurt again because of it. In his eyes, she could see just how much this strange life was wearing at him.

Bluntly, she said, "You would be an experiment again." She didn't want to commit him to a living hell that he hated more than anything, not without knowing all the risks he faced.

He merely looked at her, calm. "But I would have hope."

"I'll need a place to work. I resigned from Shinra, so I have no lab space."

"…we could go to the Mansion. Most of the research is still there."

She studied his tormented eyes, knowing in her heart that was the last place on Earth he wanted to go. "If that's what you want," she said simply. She hesitated. "What of your… companions?"

He shrugged, cold again. "They won't notice I'm gone."

"Red, and the chimney, are watching us both."

Seeing that his staring was being noticed, Cid stood. "C'mon furball. Let's find out what the hell's going on with Vampy."

Red shot Cid an unkind look, but padded after the pilot. The doctor rose, and shook hands with him. "Captain," she greeted.

"Wait… do I know you?" Cid demanded.

"We've met," she replied. "I used to work for Shinra, and we ran into one another at one of those banquets they have."

"What's your name then, chickadee?"

"Professor Diane Jenrette. I'm a doctor and a scientist."

"I think I remember you, or your mother. You look like her."

Vincent glanced up, knowing the answer Cid was about to get. "That wasn't my mother, Captain Highwind. It was me."

"Shit!"

"Yes," she agreed. "However, I could use your help, both of you," she added to Red.

"Whaddaya need, Doc?"

She winced, knowing once Cid gave someone a nickname, it stuck, impossible to get rid of. It could be worse, she thought. "Mechanical aptitude. There could be a great many repairs needed on equipment."

"Whoa, what?"

"It's to help Mr. Valentine," she explained without explaining, eyes cool.

"Mr. Valentine?" he demanded.

"That _is_ his name," she said frostily.

"Oh. He's not very chatty… only told us his last name…" he muttered.

"Now, are you coming or not?"

"Fuck, hold your chocobos! I didn't say I wasn't coming, Doc! I want to help the poor bastard!"

"That 'poor bastard'," Diane growled, words dropping like ice chips, "is sitting right there, Captain Highwind."

Cid swelled, presumably to start cursing the little professor, but he was quietly interrupted. "Be quiet, Cid. She's only trying to help."

Vincent's quiet order took all the wind out of Cid's sails, and even cooled the angry spark in Diane's grey eyes. She took a deep breath, held it a moment, and then let it out. "Very well. I can leave as soon as you both are ready."

"All three," Red put in. "I'm coming too."

Vincent looked surprised, not realizing that people actually gave a damn about him. Of course, he only showed it by a slight widening of his eyes.

"Very well, I'll be waiting here," Diane agreed, even as Cid stomped off.

"You heard me, Spike-boy, I'm leaving!"

"What the hell! Why?" Barret demanded.

"That's none of your goddamn business!" Cid retorted.

"Is it that lady you were talking to?" Tifa asked.

"In a way!"

"Cid's got a girl-friend!" Yuffie caroled, annoyingly off-key.

"No I don't! It's something else entirely, something good!"

"There's a first," Tifa snipped.

"Fuck you," he retorted, stalking back to the trio. "Let's go," he growled.

"Nice group," Diane remarked dryly.

"Cloud's the worst," Cid put in. "Obsessed and carries a sword bigger than him."

"Soldier was never meant for one that stupid," Vincent commented in his usual soft voice.

"Soldier was never meant to be."


	2. Journeys

A/N: A huge thank you to Noacat, who gave me my first review for this story. Ya sent me into conniptions of glee, kiddo! You're also the reason why I'm breaking my five-reviews-per-chapter rule, since you seem so interested (recommend it to people, please!) And yes, this is after Aeris is dead. Personally, I found her annoying, but necessary, a cleric in a D&D party miles away from undead, if you catch my drift. As to where this is going, well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?

As always, nothing belongs to me. My cat owns everything, including my soul.

_Chapter 2_

_Journeys_

Once the group was out of Junon, they moved fast. Red loped happily alongside the chocobos, darting here and there as things drew his interest. Cid rode a gold chocobo, whose name seemed to change with his rider's mood, though it didn't seem to bother the cheerful bird. Vincent had a black, called Adam, who was quite friendly—and spoiled rotten. Diane rode double with Vincent, not having a bird of her own, and not wanting to suffer Cid's incessant smoking and verbal abuse. _Though,_ Vincent thought, _she might have two before this trip was over._ She fed Adam's ego constantly with petting and praise, and gave Cid's bits of fruit and other treats, endearing both to her.

As Cid predicted, she had no weapons, other than pepper spray. The pilot raised his eyebrows, and Diane muttered in an almost embarrassed explanation, "Not everyone can take 'no' for an answer…"

"You need a babysitter, Doc," Cid grumbled, realizing he and Vincent would have to protect her from _everything_.

"So do you," she retorted, pointedly eyeing the frayed flight jacket.

Abruptly, he grinned. "Howabout this: I'm you're babysitter, and you're mine!"

"Deal."

One night, as the group was resting, sitting around a fire, Cid said, "So Doc, you know about us. How about a bit about you?"

Diane looked edgy, fiddling with a frizzy bit of red hair. "Cid, I'd really rather not…"

"C'mon, fair's fair!" he protested.

"You sound like a child, Cid."

"You're damn right I do, and I'm twice as annoying as any kid."

"Grow up," she suggested.

"Cough it up, and then we can sleep."

"Will it shut you up?"

"Yeah, I suppose…"

She was tired, eyes gritty from dust and exhaustion. If she could shut Cid up with a story—honestly, she wished he were as quiet as Vincent sometimes—she would, if only to sleep. "Fine."

Red leaned against her, purring quietly, dozing, even as she started to speak. Vincent alternated from watching the woman to their surroundings, always on his guard, and Cid leaned closer, waiting.

She took a deep breath, composing herself. At last, she said one sentence that was the damnation of her existence.

"If Professor Gast was the father of the Jenova Project, I am its mother."

Vincent looked up sharply, other emotions hidden behind the red cloak he wore. Cid's reaction, though, was more than enough to make due for Vincent's hidden thoughts.

His eyes stared in shock, mouth open, working, trying to summon sound and words. Finally, he did. "What the fuck?" he demanded.

She shrugged. Even Red was looking at her with slightly accusing eyes, waiting to hear her explanation. "When I was younger, I was in medical school. Science was only starting to worry about Mako, and the ill effects it could have, so we were testing it on rats in one of the student labs. I had missed some school, so I had to make up the time somewhere, and the professors decided that I should watch over the Mako rats, observing. It meant a sixteen hour shift with only a few short breaks, but I needed the time.

"I noticed that rats exposed to extreme amounts of Mako died rapidly, often with bad deformities. However, those that survived were faster, stronger, and smarter than the rest, almost on human intelligence. Super rats, all because of Mako saturation. At that time, I was an undergraduate, trying for my master's. I needed to write a paper on something, and I chose those super rats, calling it the Mako Theory. It was laughed at during that time, but later, once real doctors, not students, validated it, it became the basis of the Soldier program."

"What the hell's that got to do with the Jenova Project?" Cid demanded.

"I'll tell you, at some point, but not now. I'm tired, and I want to tell that story properly." _And,_ she thought, _I don't want you to despise me._

"Now you listen here, you little—" Cid began.

"That is more than enough for one night, Highwind," Vincent said quietly. "We should rest, if we want to reach Nibelheim by tomorrow evening."

Muttering ungracious words, Cid rolled up in his tent, thinking over the new information about his companion. _She's almost as secretive as Vampy…_ he thought as he drifted to sleep.

A/N: Yeah, it's me again. I know, short chapter, not much happens, but I've started typing the next one already. Well, the next two, but one is optional read only—no, not like _that_, get your mind out of the gutter!—since it's a bunch of scientific babble. I should have the next few chapters up within a few days, since it's almost holiday break and I can get lots of writing done then. Oh, feel free to review, and I'll include a love note for you at the beginning of the chapter!


	3. Nibelheim

A/N: Thanks, Ducky, for your review, and the favorite story. Yeah, I'm nosy. Comes from being on Elfwood. Really, you guys are the ones that fire me along. Well, here we go again. This chapter was a bitch to write, unsurprisingly. It's just too serious for this time of year, and even the muses are getting hyper. As usual, nothing's mine, except Diane and the plot. If you try to sue me, I'll throw a textbook at you, and medical tomes are _heavy_. My cat owns your soul, too.

_Chapter 3_

_Nibelheim_

The group arrived in the rather traumatized town of Nibelheim after nightfall, walking, after Bronco—Cid's chocobo—had nearly run into a building in the dark. Mutually, they decided to rest the night at the inn, gladly paying the two hundred gil for a chance to sleep in a bed. Diane was nearly sleeping on her feet, guided upstairs by Red, and fell asleep as soon as she hit the pillow. Cid watched as Vincent fastidiously cleaned his gun, as he did every night. "So, tomorrow we're gonna go to the Mansion, clean it out?" he asked.

Vincent nodded once in reply.

"You, me, an' Red? Leave the Doc here?"

Again, Vincent nodded.

"Jesus, can't you even say something, rather than nod?"

Vincent just gave him a look.

Cid threw his hands up in the air. "Christ, you're cold! Fine!" Grumpily, Cid pulled the blankets over his head, effectively shutting out the sight of the dark gunman, trying to sleep.

Risking life and limb, Red woke Diane in the morning. As he already knew, the professor didn't like getting up, but she needed to know what was going on. "Diane, wake up, please.

"…'way…" she muttered.

"Diane, Cid, Vincent, and I are going to the Mansion."

"Huh, wha—" she demanded, sitting up, hair going everywhere.

"There are monsters there that need to be cleared away before any work can be done," he explained. "It's for your safety."

"Oh." She thought for a moment, trying to push off the haze of sleep. "But I can fight! I have some materia—"

"And no real skill in using it," Red said, as gently as he could. "You're more use here, where you can start organizing your papers and things to help Vincent."

Her shoulders slumped, but only a little. "You're right, I guess…" she said with a sigh. "I'm just trying to help."

Red nosed her hand, a near smile on his feline face. "You're a help, just by being able to bring hope to one who'd lost it."

Impulsively, she gave the cat a hug. "Thanks, Red. Now go kick some monster butt—and don't get hurt."

He smiled again, and padded off, tail flicking.

Diane flopped out of bed, deciding Red's advice was good to follow, and she got to work, unloading a worn leather journal, mountains of notes, and a pile of computer discs. Sitting on the bed, she began sorting through them, humming a tune that had been popular thirty years ago.

It didn't take long for the trio to clear the monsters out of the Mansion. What took the most time was the checking of every room, making sure nothing was lurking in a corner, waiting to pounce on a tasty meal of unsuspecting doctor. They also tried their best to make the gloomy Mansion suitable for living, but that was a difficult battle, fighting thirty years of clutter and grime.

"Shit," Cid complained. "If Shinra was gonna leave this place alone this long, they coulda at least sent a cleaning crew every so often!"

"They would have been forbidden, for what they might find," Vincent said quietly.

"Oh. Right." Awkwardly, Cid ran a hand through his hair. "I forgot."

_Lucky you, pilot, lucky you…_ Vincent thought, helping Red drag an unidentifiable corpse outside to be burnt.

That evening, the trio returned to the inn, grimy, smelly, and unpleasant, but unhurt. Even Red headed towards a hot bath, eager to get the scum of the Mansion out of his fur. When he batted the door open, he could only sigh.

The room looked like it had been hit with a paper hurricane. Sheets were everywhere, some covered in her tiny script, others in different men's writing, while more still were the neat printing of a computer. Most were scattered across the room, in single sheets, or a small pile.

The culprit of the mess was sitting in the middle of it, pouring over the sheets, talking to herself, even as she put papers aside, or Planet forbid, made more notes.

"But that makes no sense. If his body rejects the Jenova proteins, why is he still affected? Maybe he was just cracked at this point, and didn't know what he was talking about. All the Mako he was exposed to, it'd be no small wonder. But still, there's something not quite balancing out here…" she muttered around a pen, frowning.

Red just shook his mane, wandering toward the bathroom, trying to avoid leaving dirty pawprints on the papers. Diane never even appeared to notice him, until he stuck a cold, wet nose on the back of her neck, bringing out a faint, startled scream.

"Red!" she squealed, hand clapped over the spot. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Trying to get through that thick, distracted skull of yours that dinner's here, damn it," Cid put in from the door way.

"What? How long have you been back?" she demanded. "And what did you get?"

"We've been back for about two hours, and Vampy ordered some weird Wutaian stuff from the kitchens."

Diane stood, taking care not to disturb the papers on the floor as she hustled to the door. "Oh, I hope there's spider rolls…"

"Spiders?" Cid asked in a low voice as she scooted off. "I thought chicks hated spiders…"

Red just let out a chuckle, padding after her. He too was hungry, and could smell the delicacies in the room down the hall.

"Sushi!" Diane's happy cry rang out. She rarely got to enjoy one of the Wutaian delicacies, and when she did, she meant to enjoy them completely.

Red sniffed the miso soup dubiously. "What's this?"

"Tofu," came Vincent's soft answer. The dark man was removed from the food, as though he didn't want to taint the meal with his presence.

Red sniffed it again. "I think I'll skip the soup, Vincent. Thanks, but…"

Diane was already into the food, eating as if her body had never slowed down from its adolescent metabolism. Pausing, she looked up at Cid. "Spider rolls, Cid, have crabmeat in them. And not all women are afraid of spiders. I had a tarantula for a pet as a kid, until my mother made me get rid of it."

"All of five years ago?" Cid remarked sardonically. He still didn't believe that Diane was who she claimed to be.

Diane dropped the bit of sticky rice she had been about to eat on her plate, lowering her eyes. After a time, realizing Cid was still staring at her, she said quietly, "Closer to sixty." Setting the plate aside, she stood up, walking out of the room, muttering about wanting to go to bed early.

Red glared angrily at the rough pilot, displeased with his roughshod handling of the little woman.

"What?" Cid demanded defensively. "I didn't do a goddamn thing!"

"That's exactly it. You were completely insensitive and insufferable to her. By the Planet, Cid, she's not Shera!"

"Fuck this," Cid announced, throwing his fork down. "The hell if I have to listen to this! I'm gonna go have a fucking cigarette…" Storming off, he went to do just that.

Diane was bundling her papers together, anticipating the move to the Mansion. Sighing, she added another bundle to the ones on the desk. She wasn't really angry with Cid, but he had touched a nerve. "If I knew then what I know now, what would I have changed?" she wondered aloud.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Enter," she called in a weary voice. If it was unpleasant company—like the Turks—she'd just make enough racket to bring the men down the hall to her room. _After all, the Turks can't kill anyone without making speeches first anymore,_ she thought sardonically. _Discipline went to hell after Vincent disappeared, and Slim, ET, and Vjay never really cared after that._

Cid poked his head in. "Uh, Doc…?"

"What do you want?" she demanded, a bit more cold than she'd meant to be.

He came in, shutting the door behind him. "I, uh, wanted to 'pologize…"

"I'm listening."

"Well, Red pointed out I'd been pretty nasty to you… didn't mean to, but guess that's just me." He ran a hand through his hair. "What'm tryin' to say is sorry."

"It's alright, Cid. You don't know me very well, so you can't be expected to know what will upset me."

He leaned against the wall, fiddling with an unsmoked cigarette. "Why don't you tell me about it? So I don't do it again, that is."

"As I told you before, I was a medical student back when Mako was first starting to be used heavily. We didn't know much about it then, so we handled it without proper protection."

"You handled the fucking stuff?" Cid burst out.

"As I said, we didn't know about it. We never touched it barehanded, but there were traces on the equipment we used, and that got touched. No one thought anything of it until people started getting sick. We had our first cases of Mako poisoning.

"I was one of the last people put on the research program, so I absorbed the least Mako. Still, it was enough to have an effect on me. Mako, so it seems, has an effect on aging, particularly the lack thereof. Once I crossed the threshold point of absorption, I stopped aging, but at the time, it wasn't apparent. I was still young, so it didn't become apparent until many years later."

"Same as Vampy…" Cid muttered thoughtfully.

"Yes, the same as Vincent. He, however, was exposed to a great deal more than anyone I've head of, except Sephiroth. The loss of aging is one of the first "benefits" you get from Mako, apparently."

"How old…" Cid started to ask, but thought better of it.

"How old am I?" she asked. At Cid's nod, she answered, "Over seventy, I believe. I stopped counting years ago. I don't know how long it will last, either."

"Shit, Doc… I'm sorry. I really didn't have a fucking clue…"

"I know, Cid," she answered in a world-weary tone. "It might extend our lives, or it just might hide the corruption behind a pretty face. I guess we're all just lab rats in a giant test tube. But first, I'm going to help Vincent. That's why I'm here."

"We're going to go to the Mansion tomorrow," Cid said.

"That's the first step then. From there, we'll move as fast as we can, until I undo what was never meant to be done."

Cid reached out and roughly hugged the little professor, who let out a squeak at the sudden contact. "You're alright, Doc. You're alright."

She smiled up at him, glad to have found an unexpected ally in the gruff pilot. "You too, Cid. You're alright."

A/N: Yeah, another lame-ass chapter. More character development though, which is good. And no, I'm not going to turn this into a romance fic, Jill—if you're even reading this, brat. Oh, Onni-chan, this fic is gonna start going away from our storyline, so ya might wanna read. Grins The action's going to kick up in the next chapter.

**On the technical side, my computer has decided to attack me unfairly. I can't access my emails through anything, browse certain websites (including parts of FFN!), and have to sweet-talk almost anything internet-oriented to work. However, this doesn't affect my ability to write, since Word isn't connected to the 'net, so you'll still get your dose of _Saving Grace_. But there's also a small issue with that: it's showing one chapter less than what actually is! As in, I have three chapters up, but you guys are only seeing two. I'm getting on it to fix it, I promise! For now, I've put in a "bumper" to make the next chapter appear. Once the bug is fixed, I'll remove it.**


	4. Housecleaning Hangups

A/N: Well, I think I have a friend! Thanks, Ducky, for the second review. I'll try not to disappoint you. And a new person, Silver! Thanks for the review, you guys make my day.

Finally, the action will pick up a bit. Now, the real work starts. Just to warn you, I tend to go off on a medical tangent, so if I go too far and you don't understand, just tell me, okay? I'll test it on my sister Jill, but she's been around me so long, she's become immune. As always, Samsam owns nothing. Except a pissy computer, and that's debatable on the cat's ownership. And for the record, all the "hang-ups" have happened to me.

_Chapter 4_

_Housecleaning Hang-ups_

Red swung a heavy paw at the front door of the Mansion, opening it. Peering around Cid—he insisted on going first, since they weren't absolutely sure that all the "guests" were gone—Diane got her first look at the Mansion since it had been abandoned.

Diane didn't believe in paranormal anything. Horoscopes were just something amusing in the paper, and psychics were just lucky guessers. But this place made her want to change her mind.

"Wretched" didn't even come close to describing the place. The few spots that had been cleaned only seemed to enhance the misery and gloom of the place. The air itself was musty and dank, smelling faintly of rot and blood, both fresh and old. The feel of despair permeated the oppressive darkness, a feeling that made the hair on the back of her neck rise.

"My God…" she whispered, appalled. Automatically, she stepped over the threshold, letting the full feel of the place hit her. Grief, so strong she could almost reach out and touch it.

Vincent was thankful for the high-collared cloak, as it hid his grimace of pain as a wave of powerful memories hit him. This place… it had all started here. Every bit of pain and suffering, it all had its roots here. This miserable place, forced away from the companionship his fellow Turks had given, everything he'd valued stripped away, immeasurable anguish—both physical and mental, the guilt he'd been forced to endure, and finally, the emptiness, the realization that he was a monster, that Hojo had been right all along.

His thoughts were interrupted by Diane's all too perceptive gaze. She was used to reading people, he realized, and that included him now. He regretted the flash of his eyes that must have betrayed him.

_She sees us, you know,_

That damn voice. It wasn't yet strong enough to manifest physically, like the others, but it wasn't the smartest demon for nothing.

_Shut up,_ he told the thing. _She's going to get rid of you._

_If she can. We _are_ you, Vincent… a part of the monster that you are!_

He hid his reaction well this time, conscious of the eyes now on him, yanking his mind back to the present where it belonged—at least while his attention was needed.

"Well, it needs some work," Diane declared, looking around.

"Yeah, it's what they call a fixer-upper," Cid joked, joining the banter.

"Just a bit," she agreed. She stared around at the debris of time that the monsters had only added to, and heaved a sigh. "Well, let's get started."

Cid looked flabbergasted at the thankfully empty bucket she hurled at him. Fortunately, he caught it, looking utterly confused. "What the hell, Doc?"

"Rinse it out good, fill it up with clean hot water," she instructed. "And then bring it back."

"What the hell for?" he demanded.

"To mop. Or should I say, swab the deck, Captain?" she added in a too sweet voice.

Grabbing the bucket by the handle, he stalked off, muttering under his breath, "That's the wrong kind of captain, Doc… or should I call her something like…" Fortunately for him, his grumblings trailed off to nothing as he went about his task.

Vincent almost smiled, until a broom handle almost smacked him in the nose. Reflexively, he caught it, staring reproachfully at the redhead that threw it at him.

"Nuh-uh, Mr. Valentine. That doesn't work on me, remember?" She gave him a teasing, good-natured smile.

He did. Roughly thirty-five years ago, the Professors Hojo and Gast had called for him to forcibly remove a young doctor who was causing a disturbance. He had tried the glare that made ice water seem warm by comparison, the one that kept even Slim in line, but it just slid off the woman. He had wondered about her for several hours after—had he lost his touch? It was the first time in years that someone hadn't succumbed to that glare, forcing him to drag her out.

He looked at the smiling woman, thinking, even as he automatically swept the dirt into a pile. She was almost happy, on the path that she felt would lead to her redemption, and helping others. One day, he'd feel the same.

_No you won't._ Chaos was nagging in his mind again.

He sighed, already tired of the demon. _Be silent, demon!_ he ordered, with more force than usual, actually stunning the beast into silence.

At that moment, there was a sloshing sound, and Cid returned, carrying the full bucket, slopping water left and right, still grumbling.

"Cid!" squealed Diane as she was soaked when he set the bucket down. "Oh you…" she growled, shaking a fist under his nose, mock-threateningly. "You did that on purpose!"

"Not really, but it worked all the same, din'it?"

"Shut up and start mopping. I'm going to dust."

The cleaning went with minimal difficulties, other than Cid sneezing so hard he lost his balance, tumbling from the chair he was standing on. Of course, he blamed it jokingly on Diane, since she was the one he was helping. Red prowled outside, finding any local wildlife that wandered in too close, and ridding the Mansion's yard of them. The trio, while taking a break at cleaning the second floor, cheered him on, calling down good-natured insults and advice. At least, Diane and Cid did, while Vincent just watched. Both thought it was a good sign that he was actually staying near them, rather than finding an isolated room to brood in.

Finally, after a few weeks, the mess was cleaned to a level that they all agreed was suitable for human habitation. "Now," Diane announced, "The real fun begins. Now we get to lug all the small stuff up here, because between you, me, and the fencepost, that place is more than a little eerie. I don't like it anymore than anyone else. I've read the requisition orders, and almost everything I'll need is the portable model, which means it will be fairly easy to transport it."

Red showed Diane the stone wall that lead to the basement, Cid not knowing where it was, and Vincent—understandably—not wanting to return there. Heading down, the little professor carefully descended the shabby stairs, keeping an eye on the long drop down. She glanced at the door on the side of the hall, realizing what would have been there if Hojo had his way. Scowling at the thought of her former coworker, she never even saw the dark shape that flew at her.

Vincent's head shot up at the sound of the scream, muted as it was by the distance. Cid grabbed his spear, never far from him in this unnatural place, forced to run after Vincent as he darted to the basement. He swore badly at the sight that greeted them both.

Diane was swatting uselessly at pair of black bats, too startled to use her materia. One had its wings wrapped over her face, drawing some of her blood in its attack.

Vincent's eyes glowed faintly at the smell of fresh blood. _Not now! _he ordered himself, carefully aiming at the second bat before it too could swoop in and attack.

The thunderous report of the gun gave Diane enough adrenaline to shove the bat off, watching in numb shock as Cid's fire spell cooked the beast before its corpse could smack into the wall. She jumped as she felt a hand on her neck, eyes wide, and hands coming up defensively.

"Shit, Doc, calm down!" Cid reassured her, examining the bite. "It's just me, okay?"

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Diane nodded. "I'm sorry, Cid… it just…"

"Hey, it's alright. You'll need to clean that, but you should be okay. Little fuckers aren't big enough to do any real damage."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm alright. Let's get that stuff and get the hell out of here. No more adventures for me today."

"I couldn't agree more," Vincent said in a firm voice.

A/N: Well, here we get a look inside Vincent's head. Goddess, does he always have to be so stubborn about letting _me_, his writer, see into his head? Oh well. He'll open up sooner or later. Once you get in there, it's absolutely fascinating. And look, he's getting protective! And talking! Oh, for explanation, Vincent doesn't yet have the Chaos limit break, but that'll be explained by the Doc. Also a few other things Dennelle and I dreamed up. Yes, I _am_ teasing you. So, other than the tease, anything bothering anybody? Something blatantly missing, something you'd like to see more/less of? Tell me, and I'll see what I can do.


	5. The Start of it all Again

A/N: Well, sorry for the delay on the chapter. I had some computer problems, and when I got back from holiday break, we all found out midterm exams are next week. So expect more delays in the next chapters. I'm a senior, so exams are really important this year. I'll probably be back to edit this chapter when I've been able to snag more sleep and coherency. My apologies if it's not up to scratch.

Thanks so much, Jill, for _finally_ reading this. Now at least, you finally know what I'm babbling about at three AM. And to my new reader, Cendrillo, thanks for the very useful review. I like your stories too! /Smile/

Here's where the medi-babble starts, so hold onto your chocobos. My source is _Campbell/Reece Biology: Sixth Edition_, the one I use for school. It's an AP text and brand new this year. Another is Sam Rhine's Genetics Update Conference 2004, held at Seaholm High School in Birmingham, Michigan. If my in-story definitions confuse you, refer to the next section. It's the medical definitions in layman's terms. Just open it up in a new window and it goes (mostly) in order as you read.

I'll accept intelligent debate, but flames, backless arguments ("Oh, _that_ can't possibly happen!), and the like will be mocked, belittled, and otherwise taunted. Also, to the higher educated than me, feel free to correct me on medical details I bungled. With that said, on with the story! Oh, I still own nothing. Durr.

_Chapter 5_

_The Start of it all Again_

At last, the new laboratory was set up to Diane's satisfaction. No longer was it gloomy and filthy, but in the main room, where Hojo's 'clues' had once been, actually quite sunny now that the windows were washed. Diane's lab didn't look like a bastard child between an old Frankenstein movie and a high-tech research facility, but rather like a doctor's office. It was a place light, though also clutter. Notes, some bound in journals, others on sheets of loose paper, were piled where it was convenient, next to microscopes, centrifuges, and a computer. The discs for the computer were stacked haphazardly next to the drive, their contents written on their spines in permanent marker. Books were there too, though most were off to one side, next to loose-leaf paper, waiting for notes to be taken on their material.

The creator of all this chaos was sitting happily in the midst of it all, red hair like fire in the early morning sunshine. She was testing some of her equipment, calibrating it in preparation of what was to come. Here, she would work her miracle, if all went well.

"Vincent?" she called, knowing the dark man wouldn't be far. "I'm ready for you."

He looked like a man going to his own execution. That condemned man couldn't be as edgy, ready to bolt, as Vincent was at that moment. Red eyes that didn't quite hide his nervousness darted to the pan of sterilized instruments, then to Diane, not quite afraid, but not trusting.

"It's all my work right now," she told him. "I just need a blood sample from you to find out what I need to do. It's a small one, so don't worry at all. I'm not a phlebotomist, but I've done enough bloodwork to know what I'm doing."

While Diane chatted, looking entirely at ease, Vincent looked increasingly edgy, especially at the syringe and rubber tourniquet. She eyed him askance, giving him a very good reproduction of his own look of doom. "If you don't relax, I'm going to have to do something rash. I'm not going to sit here for a half an hour and poke you until I can find a vein."

Nonplussed, he raised an eyebrow. "And what would be rash?" he asked in a would-be calm voice.

"I don't know just yet, but it'll be something along the lines of mad tickling, or Mozart."

He almost smiled at the thought. He didn't even know if he was still ticklish or not, but there were more pressing matters at hand, and he didn't think Diane would take kindly to a tussle in the midst of her lab equipment. "You listen to Mozart?" he asked, curious.

"Yes, when I used to live in Midgar, I always attended the symphony when I could get tickets. _Eine kleine Nachtmusik_ was one of my favorite pieces."

"_A Little Night Music_?" He hadn't had to use his vague knowledge of other languages in many long years.

"Yes. It's so lively and energetic, but so relaxing."

"Do you play?"

She laughed. "Hardly. I couldn't carry a tune in a bushel basket if I tried. I enjoy the music, but it wouldn't do for someone like me to butcher it." To her careful eye, Vincent was finally starting to relax, even in the presence of the medical paraphernalia that was lying around the area. Smiling, she asked, "Do you?"

He looked startled for a moment, not expecting to be questioned so abruptly. "No."

"Just 'no'?" _He has to be Wutaian to be so modest… I heard him tinkering with that old piano, and it was as good as anything I'd heard at the Midgar Symphony Orchestra._

"Just no," he answered, though not seeming so foreboding now.

"Alright, we'll have to listen to some of the music I have, see if Cid can appreciate anything that doesn't have an engine. And how about that blood sample?"

She asked so abruptly that out of sheer habit, he stuck out his arm. Everyone follows orders of someone they trust after a time, and apparently, she had gained Vincent's trust. Before she lost the opportunity, she had undone the sleeve to his black dress shirt, pushed it up to his elbow, and was in the process of prepping him before he even seemed to realize what was going on.

If he pulled away now, he thought, he'd look like a fool. He disliked looking like a fool almost more than anything else. In his life, he'd worked too hard to be a leader, and then a left-hand man—the man who appears to be passive and of no consequence, but was in truth the one contributing the most to a decision or conversation. So it had been with the Turks, and then with Avalanche. His entire thought process to bare seconds, and he decided to just let her get it over with.

Diane almost smirked at her victory. Before he could change his mind, she raised his radial vein with her thumb, pressing just above his elbow, making the blue vein stand out from the rest of his pale skin. Glancing at the sterile pan next to her, she selected a syringe that was known as a 'butterfly' for its fine needle, and slipped it into the vein. Smoothly, she drew the plunger back, drawing about ten CCs of his blood. "There, we're all done. Or at least you are. Now I have to do all the hard work," she teased. "Keep an ear open, alright? I'm likely to yell for you to come answer questions as they occur to me. From here on out, we're playing everything by ear. There's no schedule, until I know what's going on in there," she explained, pointing to the blood in the syringe.

Vincent nodded in understanding, putting his sleeve back into order. "Good luck, Professor."

Typically, she didn't reply, already occupied with the hard-won blood sample. Putting on a fresh pair of gloves, she was putting two CCs of blood in a plastic tube, labeling it with the date and Vincent's name. The rest she put in the centrifuge, programming it to separate the blood into white blood cells, plasma, and red blood cells with platelets. The most useful parts would be the white blood cells and plasma, she knew. The white blood cells would have his DNA and any of Hojo's alterations, comparable to the original data she had from his Turk file. President Shinra's foresight was sometimes useful, she thought. Every form of identification was catalogued, from simple blood type to eight different DNA markers.

Thinking about blood types, she drew a small sample from the whole blood, and put it into a pan that looked similar to a shallow ice cube tray, a few drops in each section, and then added drops of different kinds of clear solution to each.

"Antigen AB is showing a semi-reaction. Antigen B is showing strong coagulation. A shows no sign of coagulation or other reaction. Good, his blood type is still A. At least that much hasn't changed. DNA is going to be a different story, between the Mako and Jenova. That'll be hard to correct. Maybe a DNA gun?" she questioned the air and her instruments. "Hm. I'll just have to see what all are problems first, then figure out how to correct them."

In a very timely manner, the centrifuge dinged, signaling the end of its cycle. Prodding a few more buttons, she had the machine automatically separate the parts of the blood.

The white blood cells were sent to another machine, one that would separate the cells into their individual parts. This would let her compare the nuclear DNA to the mitochondrial DNA. Mitochondrial DNA was isolated, not used for expressing traits, so it was likely Hojo wouldn't have altered it.

Once she isolated the two types of DNA, she set up both an analysis and a karyotype. That took a great deal of time, but Diane wasn't on a schedule.

"Huh…" she muttered, looking at the karyotypes—pictures of the chromosomes, colored and organized. In the mitochondrial DNA, the karyotype showed the normal twenty-three chromosome pairs. Diane smiled, pleased. Hojo hadn't mucked around at this level, even as good as he was.

The nuclear DNA karyotype was cause for frustration. There were a few extra pairs, though not duplicates of any normal human chromosomes. For a minute, she stared at it, and then snapped her fingers. "Jenova!"

"I thought it was 'eureka'," Vincent commented, bringing in lunch. He'd had a suspicion that Diane would forget to come out to eat, and as she looked up guiltily, he knew he'd been correct.

"Ah… thank you, Vincent… I was going to…" At the knowing look in his eyes, she trailed off. "Never mind."

He gave a near smirk, though it was hidden behind his cloak's collar. _Scientists are all alike once they get caught up in their work, but no worse than any other profession, I suppose._

"What about 'eureka'?" she asked, distracting herself from her embarrassing slip.

"I thought when someone discovered something, they were supposed to say 'eureka', not 'Jenova'."

"I didn't discover something. I figured something out, even though it was painfully obvious."

"Oh?" he asked curiously.

"You've got extra chromosomes in your nuclear DNA."

"In Continental, please?" he requested.

"You have Jenova DNA in with yours."

"I see. And this means…"

"Well, it means that you've got some extra traits that belong to Jenova. I'll have to eradicate them, but that shouldn't be hard, considering your mitochondrial DNA is normal."

"Eat, before you make my poor brain into mush."

Diane complied, falling on the food. It was pizza, and from the amount of grease, it had to have been Cid's choice. She also noticed that he was much more open around her when they were alone, and no medical items were lying about where they might jump up and attack him.

"So," she said lightly as she ate. "Other than the DNA and red eyes, are there any other details that only you would know about? Any funny side effects?"

Vincent paused in thought. There were the four demons, but could he tell the doctor he was possessed by four creatures? And the other… that would have to remain a secret for as long as possible.

"Red mentioned something about shape-shifting in battles."

He winced behind the concealing collar. Of course Red would tell Diane something like that, if she asked. The cat was highly intelligent, and knew that Vincent would avoid sharing certain details if he could avoid it in any way. Diane was giving him a cool look, knowing he was evading her question.

"Yes, most fighters call them 'limit breaks'."

"Hm… the partial transformations…" she muttered, digging through a pile of old looseleaf paper, and pulling out a sheaf. "'…a series of partial transformations, unpredictable at best, volatile at worst…'" she read. "In theory, the cells introduced would essentially cause absolute corruption, triggering partial transformations that were exceedingly painful. "There's nothing about total transformations, especially at a trigger."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Vincent said calmly.

"The Chaos Theory."

The name of the theory sent a chill down his spine. Chaos, one of the banes of his existence, had been used in a theory by Diane. He wasn't sure what it meant, if anything.

"It must be the Mako. It must have given some extra resistance to the transformations, or else I just underestimated. Hm, in battle… triggered by endorphins or adrenaline?" she wondered aloud.

Vincent shook his head and took away the now cold pizza. If she didn't come out for dinner, he'd drag her out. The little professor was just too smart for her own good at times.

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Again, I apologize for the lack of quick updates. Midterm exams are almost over, so we'll be back to normal soon. I just had the hardest one today, before I finished this. Count yourselves lucky that I had the desire to write about science after having my Advanced Placement (college) Biology exam! There's still a few more secrets to be revealed, though I'm certainly not going to spill them just yet. Probably in the next couple of chapters, and then she'll try to fix him. /Smirk/ Just wait…

Oh, if anybody wants me to email them when I update, include your email address in your review.


	6. MEDICAL DEFINITION KEY

CCs: Cubic Centimeters, measures volume of liquids

Radial Vein: The vein in the crook of your elbow where you usually get shots

White Blood Cells: Cells that fight infection and have nuclei (the part that has DNA)

Plasma: Liquid part of blood

Red Blood Cells: Carry oxygen to the other cells, and have no DNA

Platelets: Clotting agents, no DNA

DNA: Individual genetic code unique to each person, but has some similarities to family.

Marker: Each spot where DNA is tested to find out the individual's DNA. These markers are compared to another sample to find out identification or if they're a relative (like in a paternity test)

Whole Blood: Blood that hasn't been separated into plasma, white and red blood cells, and platelets

Blood Type: A, AB, B, O. This is just the type of tag a person has on their red blood cells, vital to know in a transfusion, often needed in surgery. O is the universal donor, having no tags; AB is the universal recipient, having all the tags.

Coagulation: Clotting

Chromosomes: Bundles of DNA, visible under a microscope. Humans have 23 pairs, or 46 chromosomes

Karyotype: Chromosome pairs separated by size, numbered, and colored on a film

Centrifuge: Device that spins fluids at high speeds, separating them into parts. Often used for blood.

Ultracentrifuge: Centrifuge on steroids. It spins faster, separating things into smaller pieces. Often used to split cells into their parts and pieces (organelles)

Endorphins: Type of hormones

Adrenaline: Type of hormone. Released commonly in high-stress situations, root of fight-or-flight


End file.
